Curlie Carson sat before an alcohol stove.Above and on all sides of him were the whitewalls of a tent. The constant bulging andsagging of these walls, the creak and snap ofropes, told that outside a gale was blowing.Beneath Curlie was a roll of deerskin and beneaththat was ice; a glacier, the Valdez Glacier.They were a half day’s journey from the cityof Valdez. Straight up the frowning blue-blackwall of ice they had made their way until darknesshad closed in upon them and a steep cliff